A Monster's Fairytale
by AC-107
Summary: Long ago, before the creation of the Kingdoms, before the discovery of dust, there was once a Empire of light within the Forgotten lands far to the west of the other continents. A legend for the world of RWBY. Teaser. Chapter 2 Is a preview, in modern day Vale


_The lone figure browsed through the selection of books in Beacon's great library, paying little heed to the other students that stayed well away from him. The Idiot's Guide to Traps, Grim; an Evolution of the Shadow, How not to Become Grim Food, Ninjas of Lust 3... He passed all the books without a second glance, though the last one did seem a little out of place. That wasn't his problem. None of the books had what he was looking for. He was about to leave when his attention was drawn to a small book of little consequence at the dusty top of a bookcase. An old book. A book with no title on it's cover. Curious he picked it up and brought it to a table and began to shift through the pages, beginning to read it._

…

Long ago, in the mythic age, before the discovery of dust and the creation of the kingdoms of man upon the main continents of the world of Remnant. Upon the Forgotten Lands, there once arose a great and mighty Empire of the Light, whose capital city, of Atlantis was said to have been home to the sun itself, a place of unknowable beauty and knowledge. It was a utopia for all creatures fearful of the dark of night. Bird and beast. Man and fauness. For centuries, the empire prospered and the people lived happily believing the light of Atlantis would shine forever and brighten the entire world.

However where the light shines brightest, dark shadows begin to gather. The creatures of Grim, monsters of darkness, death and nightmare came. Deprived food on the darkened continents, the Grim followed those who fled to the Forgotten Lands. One by one at first, but slowly more and more came. An endless migration of the masked creatures, like a dark flood, began consuming the light. Soon, even the Six, said to be the very embodiment of the darkness itself, dragons of near infinite power, one of whom was said to be the father of all Grim, were drawn to this eden.

Happiness fled and fear became ruler. Having never fought monsters such as these, the unprepared forces of the empire suffered dreadful losses as the hordes drove at them again and again until the shadows reached Atlantis itself. There before the walls of the city, in front of it's beautiful gates came the empire's salvation. A lone Warrior stood, defiant of the odds. A member of the wolf clan, one of the last groups of fauness survivors to leave the darkened continents. His hair and furred ears were the color of roaring flame. The name of the Warrior has been lost to time yet it was revered within the hallowed halls of men and fauness for his deeds that day.

The Warrior met tooth, claw, bone and curse with burning steal, courage and aura fueling the burning sun-fires that was his semblance. A master of almost any weapon he cut down and burned to ashes nearly a thousand Grim before the despairing defenders rallied to his aid. On that day, the Grim reached that city of Atlantis and on that day, they were defeated. The cost was high for the dead of both the light and the dark lay beyond counting, but the Grim were driven back. The Warrior was hailed as a savior and an embodiment of the light.

Shortly after, the tide of war turned in the empire's favor as a new army, trained and filled by wary survivors of the Grim invasion and trained in the use of aura launched an immense counterattack on the lands held by the Grim led by the Warrior. Twice he fought one of the Six and twice he defeated the beast, forcing them to retreat. At last, there was only one part of the land the Grim still held. The Warrior led his army forward, sure of victory when word reached him of a smaller horde of Grim, led by one of the Six, attacking the lands he had reclaimed.

Forced to halt his advance, the Warrior left most of the empire's army under the command of his most able lieutenant and took a small mobile force to hunt down the small Grim horde.

He was forced to chase it for over a year. All the Grim in the horde were fast and agile, and the member of the Six that led them was far more cunning than any Grim he ever faced. Many times he faced the Dragon's force only to have it escape his grasp or force him to withdraw. Until finally, his force cornered the monsters and vanquished the Grim. He faced the Grim Dragon alone. Yet unlike the others who had fled gravely injured, this one retreated with a very human, very feminine laugh. The Warrior was seen staring for a short time at the Dragonness's form after she vanished.

When he returned to the army, he found it reinforced with new forces from the rest of the lands and great forts built, keeping in the Grim. Finally, the time came for the final battle. The last step to drive the Grim from the empire's shores. The remaining Grim horde took the field, a dark wall marked with the white bone masks and red eyes of blood-thirsty creatures. With a unified bestial roar the Grim surged forward, knowing only endless hunger. The empire's forces let lose a mighty battle cry of their own and charged forth. The Warrior was in the vanguard, leading the way with a sword and scythe blazing flames. Gifts to him that were the most perfect weapons ever forged by the Hephaestus Anvil. The forces met with a clash that deafened the very sky and drowned out the waves of the ocean. Man and fauness against the beasts of Grim. Meter by meter they pushed the monsters towards the sea, stepping over the corpses of friend and foe alike, blood staining the ground crimson. Victory was near!

But the of power the Six, would not be so easily defeated. With the screams of a hundred hurricanes, five great Dragons dropped from the sky and unleashed Grim hell upon the forces of the light. One rained fire from the sky. Another breathed death itself, soldiers screamed as their flesh rapidly rotted and decayed, leaving only bleached bones. The breath of one caused the humans and fauness to weep tears of blood while they choked on the red liquid. Dark lightning blasted from the wings of one as it raced with the speed of storms across the battlefield. The Dragonness merely swooped down repeatedly, emitting a high screeching cry that drove many into madness. The Sixth remained high above the battlefield watching, its form so massive that its wings blotted out the sun and sky.

With his forces in disarray, the Warrior ordered them to retreat while he faced the fury of the Six. It took great urging but soon the empire withdrew as the Warrior engaged the Dragons. Those who saw the beginning of that colossal fight and survived, were amazed. Wings of golden flaming aura propelled the Warrior forward into the sky. From there, it was only described as a dance. On misstep would mean death or worse, but the Warrior did not miss a beat. From there, the details grow more chaotic as even more destructive forces were unleashed.

For seven days and seven nights, they fought. A single brightly shining star dancing among five winds of shadow. Only five for the sixth and greatest shadow still flew in the sky high above, watching for something but never finding it. The very landscape itself was changed. Sloping hills leading to the ocean became ragged cliffs and verdant farmland became scorched blighted wasteland. Many feared that the very world itself would be destroyed by the clashing of these titanic forces.

At last, on the dawn of the eighth day, all was silent. No howl of Grim nor song of bird entered the sky. The very world held it's breath. The fighting had stopped. The scouts of the army waited for any sign, good or ill.

The warrior strode victoriously from the destruction, covered in blood, much his own, more of it his enemies. His resplendent armor battered, his scythe lost and sword chipped. His weariness was evident upon his face. Yet he was victorious. With him walked a robbed figure. The Warrior stood before his army raised his sword high and declared that the war was over, sheathing his sword afterward in the resulting cheer. He had earned a new title that day. Hero.

The cost of the battle had been high. The shores of the Forgotten Lands were drastically changed. Jagged cliffs clawed at the sea as chaotic storms screamed and raged, scraps of power left over from the clash. As a result, that area was forever called, the Fangs of War. Rumors abounded that the battlefield was haunted. The Grim were completely annihilated. The empire's army had lost three quarters of it's forces. There was much grieving before and after the celebrations that lasted several days.

After the work to repair what was lost began, the Hero left with his cloaked companion, seeing as his work was done, leaving with only his sword, now repaired. He adventured for several months, hunting any and all remaining Grim, in the company of an unknown and beautiful woman, with hair as black as a starless night, to whom birds of all kinds flocked.

The Hero finally settled down in and married his companion. He raised a lovely daughter. He loved and was loved. He was at peace. He was happy.

Such things never last.

Shadows began to roam the Empire of Light once again. Not from with, from the Grim but from within. A plague took the cities. Man and fauness began to distrust one another. Bandits and other outlaws laid claim to the magnificent roads. The breaking point arose when the Emperor was assassinated.

The heir to the throne was seen as weak and many others wished for power. Civil war broke out between various nobles who vied for power. The heir sought out the Hero to end the fighting. After finding him, the heir pleaded with him to aid the people, promising to do his best to protect the Hero's family. With a heavy heart, the Warrior agreed to ride one last time. He left his family sadly, not saying good bye, never good bye, but instead vowing to return.

Two years passed. The last rebel noble stronghold fell to the Hero's forces and the heir was proclaimed Emperor. With joy in his heart, the Warrior prepared to return to his family. However word reached the court of an attack on the village near his home by the last ragtag rebel mercenaries. There had also been word of a Dragon Grim sighted.

Terror and desperation gave speed new meaning that night as the Hero raced to his home. He found an imperial army encampment close to the burning ruins of the village. The Warrior searched for the leader and for any sign of his family among the refuges. He found the leader, a trusted friend of his. The leader spoke of the rebel band that attacked the village for food and supplies. Then he spoke of the Grim Dragon that had attacked. It had been the same one from the battle of the Fangs of War. The screamer. One of the Six.

The Hero asked what had happened to the Dragonness. His friend showed him. The great Dragon's head was impaled upon a spear. To bring it down they'd captured and killed a smaller Grim creature the monster had been trying protect Its pelt was right beside ...

The leader heard only a startled anguished cry of the deepest despair before his head was removed from his shoulders. Other soldiers came to see what had happened. The Hero stood, sword drawn and dripping red human blood of the headless corpse of one who had once been his friend. The warrior turned on them, spitting curses at them as murderers and betrayers, and attacked.

He was alone after those that survived his wrath fled, the soldiers and the villagers. Alone amongst the dead and burning flames, beneath the darkened stormy sky. The Hero hugged the head and pelt and screamed in grief. His cloaked companion, his beautiful wife, the Dragonness of the Six, they were one.

It was before he had married her, before he had made her his companion, before he had ended the war. She'd fought him the last day in a mortal form, much to his surprise. In the last moments of the fight, with the Dragonness' claws at his neck, his blade at her's, she'd made him a bet, with an offer he couldn't refuse. Even if he destroyed them, the Grim would return. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next month, maybe a century from then, they would return.

However, the Dragonness had promised, on her blood that so long as her wager continued and if the Hero won. The wager was so: she'd stay by his side, seeing his world and trying to turn him to the dark while he would try to bring her to the light. He'd agreed, never foreseeing that he'd fall in love with the Dragonness or her with him.

There he sat weeping upon the Grim head of his beloved wife and the halfbreed pelt of his blessed daughter, killed and mutilated by the very people he'd fought and bled for. His mind grasped at the rapidly fleeing sanity. The light; what could it do to stop his pain? What had it ever done but burn? It could only do so much. He looked at his sword, stuck into the ground, it's blade red with the blood of the soldiers who'd seen him as a savior. Hatred grew in his heart, flowing into the painful void left in his heart.

Vengeance. First he'd make the traitors suffer for what they'd taken from him, and then ... Then he'd find a way to bring it back. His happiness, his peace, his family. But how? The light could only blind and burn.

The darkness. So much was unknown. Some of the rebels had been studying it, but they could never know it as intimately as him, he had seen the very heart of darkness he had fought to destroy. His mind set, the Hero let lose a pained scream and gripped his sword.

An explosion of burning hellish flames swallowed the area for miles around. The Emperor and his forces arrived to a scene of devastation, too late to help. Only a crater remained. Ashes fell from the sky like snow as the clouds tried and failed to rain. At the center of the crater, there was a broken sword.

Decades passed and the emperor had ruled his people well. The empire made great strides in improving it defenses since the disappearance of the Hero. It had been wise of him to focus on making sure his people were safe. For once more the Grim attacked.

Unlike the first war, wasn't gradual. There was no slow increase in the numbers of the dark creatures. The second war began with a massive strike upon all the forts that surrounded the Fangs of War. All contact with them was lost. There was only survivor, maddened by fear, who screamed that the darkness had eaten the heart of the light, until he died, chocking on his own tongue.

The army sent out scouts to spot horde as it move across the land. Instead they found armies. A being of unimaginable power led the creatures of Grim. Scattered reports of those who fled spoke of a humanoid Grim with wolfen ears like a fauness, while others said it was one of the Six in human form. Regardless, the darkness' march continued until once more the shining city of Atlantis stood at the forefront.

To the terror of the defenders, there was no mindless horde of Grim. It was a true army, counting well beyond the hundreds of thousands. The Grim had taken or been forced into humanoid shapes and thousands of larger Grim were used as siege beasts. The dark force stretched from horizon to horizon. A literal sea of black. The Grim began to beat their shields and pound their weapons together or into the ground. The pounding was said to of been felt around the world. From the sky, four of the Six dropped and morphed into human forms as if the Grim were mocking the forces of the light.

The great gates of Atlantis opened, and through them the Emperor rode a mighty radiant war-steed, clad in heroic armor fitting for the gods. Boldly he challenged whom so ever of the Six who ruled to fight him one on one.

It is likely it was a last-ditch effort to buy more time to prepare, for the grim knew nothing but death and savagery. But to the amazement of all, a single humanoid rode forth. The creature was astride a nightmare, a six-legged horse with vicious horns upon much of it's body and a single crowning horn at the center of it's head. The humanoid itself was cloaked and armored in shadows. Four of the Six, bowed to him. There was no sign of the Dragonness or of the largest of the Six.

The Emperor and the humanoid dismounted their steeds and faced one another. The Emperor drew a mighty sword and powerful shield. The humanoid didn't touch the darkness covered sword at its side. Instead it raised up one hand to its mask.

And took it off.

All who saw stood shocked. The Hero had returned. Fallen into darkness. His hair and furred ears were blacker then the darkness at the heart of all Grim and his eyes glowed a hellish red that could be seen from the tallest tower in Atlantis.

The the fallen Hero attacked. The fight did not even last longer than a blink before it was over. With a slash, the Emperor's shield was split and his sword crushed. Blood sprayed from the rent armor as empire's ruler fell to his knees. The slash itself was an immense blast of cursed black flame. The exact opposite of the aura flames that had once blazed so brightly. It did not go far, blocked by a barrier of aura.

The Emperor said something to the fallen Hero, who impaled his blade in to the human's chest and pulled the dying man up with the pitch black sword. He spoke into the human's ear, then wrenched the Emperor's head to he side and buried his teeth into his victim's neck. With that, the barrier was broken as the last heart beat faded.

The monster tossed the drained corpse away with a clatter. The body was drained of blood and aura. The thing that had been the Hero roared at the city, claiming the title of the Obsidian Emperor as curse energies of the purest darkness swirled around his body. The attack began as the monster began to scream. A scream of loss, lost humanity, lost love, a lost time. A scream of hate, hate of the light, hate of himself, hate of all. The curse darkness swallowed the Obsidian Emperor encasing him and transforming him.

The city fell quickly. The Grim broke through the walls and overwhelmed the crushed defenders and moved into the city, killing all in their path. The last views of those who'd been able to flee was of a glorious Atlantis, burning, turning from a city of dreams, to screams. For nightmares are dreams too. Of the new Obsidian Emperor, he rose over his growing domain. A newly-born Dragon, whose like had not been seen before or since. A Dragon of darkness born from the heart of light. A Dragon who ate the sun itself and spat it out from spite. A Dragon who would make those of the light suffer as long as he held dominion, even unto the ending of the world.

And so fell the ancient Empire of Light and the great city of Atlantis. Those who survived, fled the dark lords wrath by escaping back to the darkened continents. And so the dark lord consumed the Forgotten Lands. From then on, he stayed within his realm, perhaps planning his next war, perhaps desperately still searching for some way to take back his love from death. None who've ever enter the black mist of those lands has ever returned.

In the end, from the brightest lights ... come the darkest shadows.

…

_Moonlight touched his hand as he came back to reality. A searing pain attacked his right eye. He clutched at his head with his heavily gloved and armored right hand. The pain subsided and he looked the hand over as he pulled it away. The he looked out the window, gazing upon the fractured moon. The moonlight lit his pure white hair sliver. It was late._

_He must have concentrated too hard on the story. His blue eyes gazed upon the book again. That's all it was, some dumb legend. That's all he had to go on for his state? He took a breath to calm himself. The temperature of the room started to rise back up to it's normal temperature as the frost that had appeared began to melt. Legends were based on some form of the truth, at least according to his late master. And it was something. Looking around in the darkened room, the figure adjusted his headphones and pocketed the book. Whoever this Alexander Cooper was who wrote this book might know something, provided he was still alive. His throat was parched. It was time for him to hunt._

**Author's Bit: Hi there. I'm AC-107 and this here is something of a teaser for my RWBY fanfic project I have in mind, once I get around to it. I'm currently working on my main project right now, Wolfheart, a Diablo 2 story. Anyways, some feedback would be great, hope this catches your interest. Looking forward to getting on this, as well as Wolfheart. Still working on my writing habits though. Well. See you all later. Hope you enjoyed.**

**Edit: Just an updated version of the legend, fixing spelling errors and mix ups. **


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